Short and Sweet
by SuicidalToeSocks
Summary: For those stories that are just too short for oneshots and too cute to keep away from everyone. They're short, they're sweet, they're to the point, and they're there to satisfy that little romantic sweet tooth when it wants some attention. Assorted ships.
1. Sunsets are like Hugs

**A/N: We all have a few stories that we've written that are just too short to be considered an actual "story," be it oneshot or no. I have no heart to toss these out, nor do I want to post them, being as short as they are. So, I am piling them all up in here, where they can be read through whenever they wish to be, and not take up my archive space.**

**A heads up, nothing is consistent. I'll toss a warning label on the chapters that are slash-anything if you want to avoid that. I'll also put up the pairing at the top of the chapter, in case you really strongly dislike one and want to skip over it. **

**Pairing: Candice/Volkner  
**

"Volkner! Come on, wake up!"

The addressed party blinked sleep lazily out of his eyes. He was asleep? But he didn't remember being in bed or anything...

There was a beach towel under him and under that, some sand. Everything was washed in orange and yellow, and off to his left, the blazing sun was casting its reflection off the ocean's surface as it sank down onto the horizon. He groaned and tucked his face into his arms to block the light.

"No, I said get up! You're going to miss the sunset!" a bubbly voice persisted. Volkner groaned again as a girl that weighed half as much as he did tried to pick him up by curling her arms around his middle and (attempting) to lift him off the sand, her heels dug in on either side of his body. After a few unsuccessful grunts and heaves on her part, she gave up and plopped down into the sand next to him, staring out into the water.

"It's so beautiful," Candice murmured. "If you weren't so stubborn, you'd be able to appreciate it too."

"Maybe you should describe it to me," Volkner replied, his head still tucked into the crook of his elbow. The orange glow was beginning to fade from the sand from the little crack he could see from beneath his arm. Candice sighed deeply and stretched out, her stomach laying across the small of his back, her feet kicking lighting in the air behind her. Her head cradled in her hands, she let out another contented sigh.

"It's warm and comforting," she began. "Like a hug. Only, it's kind of sad, like the person you're hugging is going to be going away. But you know they'll come back again, eventually, so it's not really goodbye," she added. He could hear the soft smile on her lips as she added in the last part, but Volkner still felt his stomach drop like the temperature of oncoming night around them.

"Can't say I know what that feels like, but it sounds nice."

"You don't sound happy, Volkner," she said. When he lifted his head to look at her, the sun was already gone, but the last few of its rays were still peering lightly over the horizon and streaking pinks that turned to purples and dark blues through the clouds. "If it's something I said..."

Her twin braids were hanging limply over her hands, which were still cradling her chin as she propped it up over the sand with her elbows. Her brown eyes cautiously searched through his, just in case she had struck a nerve that would make him suddenly stand to leave, like it often did. However, he didn't seem to be in the leaving mood.

"Because everyone I've ever hugged goodbye I've never seen again," he said at last. She knew he tried to make it sound like he was indifferent, that was how Volkner was. He tried to be stoic and mysterious when emotion was brimming inside him. But she knew he wanted no pity, she never wanted any herself when she felt sad or depressed. Suddenly, his back against her stomach felt unusually hot, even for the humid, June summer they were in. She pushed herself back to a cross-legged sitting position and set her hands in her lap delicately, looking down into the sand instead of at him.

"Oh."

Usually, on their beach trips in the summer like this, Candice took great pleasure in looking at him in just a pair of swimming trunks. The way every muscle moved when he walked, swam, or simply breathed made her heart go aflutter. But now, she felt a little uneasy at even glancing. She almost felt guilty for bringing it up, for not letting him continue his nap until she absolutely _had_ to wake him up, when it was time to leave. She wanted to fix things, but what was there to even say?

"Come on, it's dark. We need to be getting you home in time to open your gym tomorrow," Volkner said, breaking the silence and flattening his palms against the towel, pushing himself to his knees and then stumbling to his feet. She did the same, and was about to kneel to pick up her skirt to walk around decently back in the city when she suddenly felt an idea tingle at the back of her mind. Thank Arceus it was dark, or he'd have seen her blush for sure. Still, she pretended to ignore it, picking up her skirt regardless and slipping it on, the same way he did with his t-shirt.

Their walk over to the ferry was a silent one. Candice, her towel tucked neatly under her arm, seemed to rub too noisily against her bare stomach while the sand kicking up under her feet felt more like it was trying to slow her down. The silence was heavy, but there were no beachgoers at this time to distract them, all having left to go home and be out of the night. The only lights came from the houses that dotted the shoreline, the stars above them, and the ferry in the distance that was set to leave in twenty minutes for Snowpoint. It couldn't have looked farther away to her.

"You're suddenly unusually quiet," Volkner stated, giving her a little playful nudge. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, totally fine!" she fibbed, putting on her brightest smile, though he couldn't see it much in the darkness. "Just a little tired is all. Our days at the beach really wear me out sometimes!"

"You're used to the cold, and heat makes everyone drowsy, so it would have an extra effect on you," he replied. She was happy to see that he was now in good spirits, at least. "Why do you think I fell asleep back there?"

"Maybe you're just lazy and you were up all night with some girl," she teased, playfully returning his nudge. "I mean, there's got to be _something_ exciting for you to do when I'm not here!"

"Yeah, that's me, sleeping with women right and left." He looked down at her and she saw a smile on his face, and it made her more at ease. "Nah, I'm not that type. I'd rather just pursue one girl, preferably not one that's in it for the sexy time."

She wasn't quite sure what to make of that statement, especially when paired with that smile, but her stomach sure did. It was turning backflips inside her the second he said it. "It's good to see that Flint hasn't rubbed off on you in that aspect!"

"Yeah, well, what can I say? I learn from the guy's mistakes," he laughed. He stopped though, at the end of the dock, before his feet could hit the dry old wooden planks that led to the boat. She stopped a few paces ahead of him and turned around when she noticed he wasn't following.

"Volkner?"

"Go on, it's late, and your boat's going to leave soon. I'm going to head back home. I'll see you later, so we can do this again, okay?" He stuck his hands in the pockets of his trunks and turned to head back through the sand towards his house at the other end of the beach. Candice watched him go with a slightly empty feeling.

"Volkner!"

The figure stopped and cast a glance over his shoulder at her. "Yeah?"

"Um," she began. And suddenly, she was at a loss for words. "What about if I hugged you?" She struggled to meet his gaze, though it was hard to even see his steely blue eyes from their distance. "You know..."

"Well," He turned around in the sand and she saw his head tilt a little to his left. "I don't see why – _OOF_!"

Candice had dropped her towel on the boardwalk and took a running start, jumping into him and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck before she could dissuade herself otherwise. Volkner's towel fell to the sand and they followed shortly after, Candice still clinging tightly to him. Her legs stretched out behind him as she sat in his lap, feeling skin against t-shirt, feeling how comfortingly warm he was in her arms. Slowly, his arms curled around her and he pressed in closer, resting his chin on the top of her head while they sat in the sand.

"So that was sunset," he murmured into her beach-smelling hair. "I think I like it."

"As well you should," she added quietly. He gave a small laugh.

"This doesn't mean you're allowed to disappear now though, okay?" he whispered. She smiled into his neck and gave an extra squeeze before looking up into his face and locking eyes.

"Okay, I promise."

**A/N: I don't even ship these two. Not a big fan of the pairing, I just don't see it working. But they fit so perfectly into this situation, so I wasn't about to ignore my muse on this one. **

**Not bad for someone who's in a writing lapse, eh? **


	2. Just this Thing he Does with his Coffee

**I really don't like his name being Barry. So I'm keeping it Damion, and you can get over it if you really have a problem with it.  
**

**Pairing: Coldcoffeeshipping (Damion/Barry / Paul)**

**  
Boyslash yaoi warning.**

It's just this thing he does with his coffee.

Nothing big, just something he's always done.

Paul, on the other hand, seems to find it strange, stupid, and obnoxious. But what does Damion care? Paul doesn't live at his house, so he doesn't have to deal with it. It really only affects him when Damion wakes up at his house and asks for a small lollipop. Then it affects him.

"Why do you want a damn lollipop?" Paul asks.

"For my coffee," Damion replies.

"That's not a reason," is the response.

And then Damion rolls his eyes and storms out of the house, ticked that Paul can't just get over himself. But Paul never stays over at Damion's house, they always seem to end back up at Paul's for some reason or other. Damion aims to change that, one day. But for now, the day remains a future episode.

But now, Damion was sitting in his living room of his own little apartment, watching the Hearthome life pass swiftly before his eyes on the streets four stories below. He didn't have the heart to join them that day, though. He leaned over the balcony and watched them bustle about, his chin resting on his forearms, listening to people shout, laugh, shop, call to their kids, and talk to their pokemon. He avoided looking at the couples on the street – they just made him think about Paul, who was the reason he was in this mess in the first place. This dull, depressing mess.

Back in his kitchen, a machine beeped, and he got up to go answer it. The coffee pot was going off, stating that it was full, thank you, and was ready to be served. In response, Damion dumped the rest of the creamer into the pot, as well as about five spoonfulls of sugar. Once mixed, he took it to the table, poured himself a mug, and stared into its contents hypnotically.

Damion learned early on that, since he was alone in his apartment, he didn't need to worry about other people caring what went in the coffee, so he could fix it up the way he liked. On occasion, when Paul did stop by, he'd get some of the coffee Damion made, and would comment about it being too sweet or too weak. He'd find something to complain about. But Damion would shrug and tell him he didn't live there, so it didn't really matter what he thought, now did it?

Finally, after much deliberation, Damion finally picked an orange sucker out of the bowl in the middle of his table and unwrapped it, then plopped it neatly in his cup and began stirring with it. He sighed contentedly when he took a sip, tasting a burst of citrus when the drink touched his tongue. He was about to take another sip when somewhere outside, thunder sounded, and all the people outside grew restless and rapid, hurrying to get out of the fat drops that were about to fall. Damion quietly got up and shut the sliding door to his deck and sat back in a fat red easy chair comfortably as the drops began hitting the windows.

Paul didn't know what he was missing out on. Sitting in the middle of a rainstorm with orange-flavored coffee inside your own comfy house couldn't get much better than anything Damion could think of. Slowly, his frustration ebbed away and he left sitting in his little chair, in his cozy little apartment, in a neat little rainstorm, with a little cup of coffee made just the way he liked in his hands. He pulled his knees up to his chest and planted his heels on the edge of the chair, and a smile crossed his features for the first time since he had stormed out of Paul's place earlier that morning. He took another sip and wiggled his toes with a sudden burst of playful energy. He giggled.

His front door blew open and Damion, who was facing it, looked up into Paul's face. Or, what remained of it that showed once his sopping hair had plastered itself over what it could. He was wearing some jacket that was equally as wet, and his shoes squelched when he stepped in and shut the door. Damion's good mood vanished and was replaced with something akin to indifference. "May I help you?"

Paul squelched over to the coat rack and put his jacket on it. Damion rose, placed his cup on the coffee table, and set the entire coat rack in the bathtub of the room down the hall and to the right. When he returned, Paul was removing his shoes and placing them by the front door as well. "I'd like to know what you're doing here before I allow you to stay," Damion said. His voice felt eerie to him, not the friendly and bouncy voice he usually spoke in. Paul glared at him. Or, would have, if Damion could see his eyes under the purple hair that looked black from all the moisture trapped in it.

"I came to see you, idiot," he said curtly. "because you left all pissy this morning and you shouldn't be pissy over stupid things that weren't intentional."

Damion's mouth tugged into a small smile. It was an apology. Albeit, hidden under numerous methods to actually _avoid_ using the phrases "I'm sorry," or "I was wrong," but an apology nonetheless. Coming from Paul, it was something not many people heard anyway. He took the other boy's hand and led him to the bathroom, where he dropped his muddy, sponge-like shoes in the tub with the coat rack and hung Paul's shirt on the shower rod. He handed him two towels from the closet and a bathrobe, left the bathroom, and went to sit on the couch with his coffee while Paul changed out of his remaining wet garments and into the robe. Once more, Damion curled his knees to his chest and wiggled his toes, his bad mood now completely lifted. When Paul came out, he patted the cushion next to him. Paul sat down and made Damion bounce a little.

"You look cold, want some coffee?" Damion asked. Paul nodded.

"Yeah. None of that sugar crap, though," he mumbled. Damion nodded, gave him a peck on his cheek, and went to the kitchen to make a new pot, no cream or sugar, as strong as he could make it. Paul continued to sit on the couch, facing away from the kitchen, staring at a blank TV screen and waiting patiently in a sort of strained silence. Damion shook his head at his companion and poured him a cup of the new, hot coffee. Upon passing the table, he paused with a glance at the bowl of suckers in the middle, and did something drastic.

Paul took a swig of coffee as soon as he got it. Then another. He didn't notice Damion not touching his own coffee, but watching with interest as Paul downed more of the beverage. "You did something different. What is it?"

"Do you like it?" he asked eagerly. To his surprise, Paul faced him and nodded.

"Yeah, a lot."

Damion smiled and went into the kitchen. Paul turned to look at him as he headed to the counter and picked something up off of it, then walked back and put it on the coffee table. It was a sucker, white stick stained brown from the coffee, sitting all wet and sticky from use on its wrapper. Damion took a last swig of his own coffee and when he turned and smiled at Paul, the head of the orange sucker was clamped between his teeth when he grinned.

He wasn't sure whether Paul was going to yell or not. He certainly looked as if he were going to. But right before it came, Paul shrugged, dropped the grape sucker into his own coffee, put that down on the coffee table, and leaned in to take the sucker head from Damion's mouth with his own. Damion didn't fight too much, he would admit.

Their fighting in the mornings at Paul's house stops pretty abruptly after this. In fact, it stops altogether. Damion no longer needs to ask for a small lollipop in the mornings when he wakes up, because Paul has his own bowl in the middle of his table, one with assorted flavors like Damion's. Paul also starts going over to Damion's more now, because Damion's house seems a little more fitting for a morning cup of coffee than it did before. There is the occasional person that comes to their houses, and they will ask why such a bowl of suckers exists in the house. Both will answer, and both will receive odd looks for their reason, but what do they care?

It's just this thing they do with their coffee.

**A/N: I'm really not looking for any feedback because I'm in this sort of slump where I think everything of mine sucks, so concrit just kind of makes me feel worse about what I just wrote. That's not to say that I'm fishing for compliments, though. I'm just kind of... Neutral? Pretend it makes sense.**


	3. Receiving Information

**A/N: I ship this.**

**Pairing: OppositesAttractshipping (Buck/Marley)**

"Hey, Marley?"

"...Yes, Buck?"

"When was the last time I told you I liked you?"

Despite the autumn air being chilly, Stark Mountain seemed to be eternally warm, even from the outside. An odd place for a date, but that thought had never seemed to occur to Buck, since he traversed it, inside and out, nearly all the time. It was a fitting place for someone as fiery as him.

"I'm not sure, Buck."

"Well, take a guess, then." He shrugged his shoulders. "An estimate."

She rolled her eyes, but checked her watch. "...About three and a half hours ago."

He spared a moment to reach around and squeeze her shoulders. "I don't think I say it enough," he said.

He grabbed her hand, probably a bit too hastily. Her hands were always smooth and dry, but her fingers were almost always chilly. That wasn't unusual, since nearly every girl's hands he'd touched were cold anyway. His were always warm and calloused. Sometimes he wondered if it bothered her that his hands were so much rougher than hers, because she wouldn't tell him if that were the case. She was good at keeping her emotions in check.

"...It isn't a requirement to tell someone you like them...when you're on a date," she said. "I wouldn't worry about it..."

"Oh." Buck glanced sideways at her. "I guess I won't say it anymore, then." That was his cue that she was annoyed. He was probably being too clingy towards her. Of course he was, she was used to being off y herself, all quiet and alone! How had this date been a good idea in the first place? He was about to drop her hand when Marley spoke.

"...However," she said quietly, quieter than usual, "you can keep saying it...if you want to..."

Buck raised an eyebrow. "I can keep telling you how much I like you?"

"...Precisely."

He smirked. "Solely for my own benefit?"

"Of course."

He rolled his own eyes and squeezed her hand in his. "Then why do you smile every time I say it?"

Marley turned her head away, but he could see the tips of her ears turning bright red and standing out against the rest of her pale skin. "...I don't 'smile,'" she said at last. "I just 'receive information.'"

Buck leaned over and planted a peck on her cheek. That was safe, right? "Whatever floats your boat, Marley," he said. "But it looked an awful lot like a smile to me."

**A/N: A girl on dA gave me this idea. Credit to her. **

**HEY LOOK MS. RENOWNED OBSCURITY, TWO PAIRINGS YOU LIKE IN A ROW!**


	4. Fireflies

**A/N: This is **_**not**_** a songfic, just in case you thought it was. The fic was merely **_**influenced**_** by the song. Meaning I listened to it en loop whenever I sat down to write this. And I like it, it's good for sparking creativity in me when I draw or write. Haters gonna hate.**

**PlainHiveshipping – Bugsy/Whitney**

"Bugsy, like, where are we going?" Whitney used her free hand to try to sneak a peek from under her blindfold, but Bugsy swatted it away before she got the chance. She yelped and stuck out her lip in a pout, one which was very ineffective without her eyes to pair it with. "No fair! Why won't you even give me one little hint?"

"It'll ruin the surprise," Bugsy replied matter-of-factly. She huffed, but allowed him to continue dragging her along in her blindfold. She had no idea where they were going; Bugsy had dragged her out of her gym the moment it had closed, blindfolded her, spun her around too many times to count, and began dragging her off somewhere with her hand in his without explanation. At least it was only Bugsy, though. Any other guy and she would start to wonder some.

"Surprise?" Her ears pricked up. "What kind of surprise?"

"The surprise kind," he said, then chuckled just a little to himself. Bugsy often thought he was funny. "Don't worry, we're almost there."

Whitney felt the grass grow thicker under her feet, more wild. Were the in Ilex Forest? But it was too dark there! She shuffled closer to Bugsy. And there were _bugs_ in there! Even though her hand was still in his, she came close enough to press herself against his side and entangle her arms around his. "Bugsyyyy, you know how I feel about bugs..!"

"It'll be fine," he laughed. "Nothing's going to get you while I'm here." She thought she heard the slightest trace of uncomfort in his voice, but the thought was pushed aside as she was _positive_ she felt something flutter by over her shoulder. She squeaked and clutched tighter at his arm. He laughed and gave her blindfold a tug. "You can take it off, now."

She wasn't sure if she even wanted to anymore, but Whitney reached up and gave it a small tug at the knot in the back with one hand, reluctant to let go of Bugsy, her only savior if any bugs got too close to her. He managed to pull his arm out of her grasp and worked at the knot in the cloth over her eyes. She started to say something to him, but any words she had died in her throat as soon as the blindfold dropped from her eyes.

She was standing in a small patch of grass that had the only view of the sky in the entire Ilex Forest. The full moon was out, glowing brightly against the backdrop of stars, but that was hardly the most breathtaking thing in this scene.

Fluttering around above their heads and around the field were what seemed to be hundreds of Ledian, all of them cooing lightly as they buzzed around, scattering something that looked like silver pixie dust around below them. It bathed everything in a sparkling glitter that seemed to glow of its own accord, without the help of the moon looking down on everything. Below, a few scattered Ledyba gazed up at them from the ground and let out mournful notes, wishing they could be flying around up there, glowing like the rest of them. For the few of the Ledian turned away from her, Whitney could see the star patter on their backs fluctuating with the twinkling starlight.

Everywhere she looked, she saw something more beautiful than the last. Even if they _were_ bugs, she'd never seen a more touching sight. When she looked back and Bugsy, he also had his eyes glued to the ritualistic scene before them, and was retying his ascot into place since he'd retired it from Blindfold.

"They do this on clear nights in this spot all the time," he said. "They're nocturnal by nature, and they get their energy from starlight, much like plants get theirs from the sun." He smiled gently. "This is my favorite place in the whole world, at this time of night." He glanced back over at Whitney and she noticed the slightest of darker tinges on his cheeks. "And I wanted to share it with you."

"Me?" Momentarily, she had forgotten about the Ledian and the stars and the glitter, and saw only Bugsy, bathed in moonlight. "Why me? You know I'm afraid of bugs!" Perfect timing deemed for a Ledian to pass by on her left, just over her shoulder. She squealed and plastered herself against Bugsy once more, burying her face into his shoulder. He laughed and tilted her face back up to look at him.

"To show you that they aren't as icky as you think they are," he said, and dropped one small kiss on the tip of her nose before going back to look at the sight before them. She flushed a deep red, but took a deep breath and laid her head on his shoulder, also looking out at all the pokemon flying around in the sparkling air. She'd worry about what his true intentions were later and just enjoy it while it lasted.

**A/N: I've just always been fascinated with Ledian's pokedex entries is all. stfu. **


	5. I Touch Myself

**A/N: Because Lenora and Burgh would have the best sassy gay friendship ever.**

**Song is I Touch Myself, by Blondie.**

It was at times like this that Lenora questioned why she was friends with someone who had both tacky taste in clothing and music.

"_I don't want anybody else!"_

Her eyebrows pinched up in the middle and she stifled a giggle at the man dancing around his studio, holding a paintbrush in one hand like a microphone and jerking his hips back and forth like Elvis. At least for now, his back was turned, and he wouldn't see her, so Lenora just enjoyed the show before her.

"_When I think _about_ you I touch myself! Oohhhwoohhh!"_

She was secretly proud of his ability to match pitch for pitch when he had such a low voice to begin with. Burgh continued to jerk his hips and torso alternatively, first fast, then slow and languid as the chorus finished. He spun around and stopped short when he spied her standing in the doorway of his studio, grinned widely, and reached his arms out to her.

"Dance with me!"

She couldn't help but giggle at the image. Here stood a man wearing a too-baggy, paint-splattered smock, pinstriped pants that stuck out the bottom that didn't cover his ankles with wild and wavy brown hair tied back with a bandanna that was equally splattered with paint as his smock. And he was smiling radiantly as the song that was blasting on his stereo continued to play. When she didn't move fast enough, he ran forward and took her hands in his and skipped them in a circle, belting out alternate lines in the song with her.

"_I love myself; I want you to love me!"_

"_When I feel down; I want you above me!"_

"_I search myself; I want you to find me!"_

"_I forget myself; I want you to remind me!"_

Lenora's deep, resounding tones mixed with his spot-on and accurate ones when the chorus hit, and their spinning in circles with hands clasped stopped abruptly, much to her stomach's pleasure. Burgh held his paintbrush up to his mouth and his lungs almost put hers to shame as she grabbed a tube of bright purple paint and held it to her own mouth in imitation of him.

"_I don't want anybody else!_

_When I think about you I touch myself!"_

Burgh finished them up with an echoing "Oohhhwoohhh!" before collapsing against his friend, laughing almost as hard as her and panting even moreso. As the song ended, Burgh peeled himself away from her to turn the stereo down, and they finally resumed the ability to speak without it being jumbled up in laughter. He slung an arm around her waist (because Lenora was too tall for him to put it over her shoulder) and led her off to show off his newest painting and asked her if she thought it would be worth anything when another auction showed up in Castelia.

Lenora didn't even get to answer before another song came up after the commercials ended, one which made Burgh perk up once more and turn to her, eyes alight with the same glow they'd had only a couple of minutes prior. She grinned back and shook her head, and they both raised their respective, makeshift microphones, and Lenora wondered what kind of 90's station he could possibly be listening to.

"_I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want!"_


End file.
